


swallow your pride (i'll help you carry on)

by therestisconfetti



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, I literally love them and their friendship dynamic, aka during britanna break up, also mentions lead up to 5.03, basically canon compliant, basically takes place through all s4 and half of s5, mainly quinn is there for santana while she deals with the breakup, quinntana brotp heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:35:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26888977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therestisconfetti/pseuds/therestisconfetti
Summary: Without Brittany to fall on when things go wrong, Santana is relieved that Quinn is still steady and patient. It’s a different kind of balance between them, and sometimes they’re much too alike, but even with all the bullshit Santana’s handed her, Quinn is still here.or: Quinn is there for Santana as her best friend, whether she wants her to be or not. (aka we love Quinntana brotp and Quinn being there for Santana when she's single and sad and missing Brittany)
Relationships: Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Kudos: 45





	swallow your pride (i'll help you carry on)

**Author's Note:**

> I just really, really love Quinn and Santana's friendship (when they're not fighting over dumb shit) and wish we kind of got more wholehearted scenes between them that still stayed true to their dynamic. So I wrote this.

Santana Lopez used to consider Quinn Fabray her best friend in the entire world.

She did, until Brittany came along. It’s not like Brittany _replaced_ Quinn - because she totally didn’t, they were The Unholy Trinity after all - but there is something about soulmates that Santana may say is totally bullshit, but when it comes to Brittany...well all that bullshit kind of fits.

High school also had gotten in the way, with the constant competition for head cheerleader and stealing boyfriends and pregnancy and Quinn’s weird rebel act at the start of their senior year. But in the end, Santana knows she can turn to Quinn when she really needs to - she’s the first one who even figured out Santana’s a lesbian.

Not that Santana told her of course. That stupid bitch figured it out on her own, joking that when she was around Santana and Brittany long enough, she often felt like she was thirdwheeling dates. No wonder she’d gotten into Yale.

So this is why, crying alone in the stupid glee choir room she’d spent practically her whole high school life in, she calls Quinn Fabray.

Despite being so busy they haven’t talked to each other since the first week of school, Quinn picks up on the second ring.

 _“Hey San,”_ she hums, and Santana can just picture her at the desk in her dorm, notes and books organized while she does her homework.

“Hi,” Santana croaks out, and she tries not to sound so broken and pathetic, but she can’t help it when a new wave of tears spills over and she sniffs.

_“Santana, what’s wrong?”_

There is worry in Quinn’s soft voice, and in this moment Santana wishes that Quinn was right here in this damned choir room with her and not hundreds of miles away at Yale.

“Um,” Santana sniffs again, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I just broke up with Brittany.”

Saying it out loud makes Santana’s chest ache all over again and she lets out another strangled sob. It’s embarrassing, really, to be like this over the phone, but Quinn’s probably the only person who’s allowed to see this side of her.

Well, you know, aside from Brittany.

_Fuck._

Quinn’s voice brings her back to the conversation. _“Why? Are you in Lima right now?”_

“Yeah,” Santana nods, though Quinn can’t see her, as she wipes her tears. “I came to visit for the weekend and-and- I don’t know. I just. There was this girl back in Louisville and we didn’t - we didn’t do anything, but I could’ve and - I can’t - I don’t want to be a bad girlfriend to Brittany.”

 _“You would never do anything to hurt Brittany,”_ Quinn assures her in a soothing voice. _“I know you wouldn’t.”_

“I know, but it’s not fair,” Santana whines, falling back against the seat she’s in. “Long distance is so, so hard. I’m not there for her, I _can’t_ be with classes and homework and my stupid cheer practice. It’s not fair to either of us if we keep this up.”

Her voice is strained by the time she finishes talking, and she pathetically sniffs again before giving her face another wipe with the back of her hand.

Quinn lets out a quiet sigh before she says, _“What you’re doing is really mature. It’s hard, because you both love each other so much, but it’s going to be okay.”_

“Okay.”

Santana’s voice is so soft and small when she says it, she hardly recognizes herself.

_“You’re so, so strong, San, and I’m here for you always, you know that.”_

It’s not enough to make the pain go away, but it gets the smallest of smiles out of Santana, and really, that’s enough to get her through the rest of her day.

(She and Quinn do a FaceTime date the next week, one where they bicker over which movie to watch and gossip about pointless things and make fun of the people on the screen, and it’s then that Santana realizes just how lucky she is that she’s never lost Quinn Fabray.)

* * *

Santana thinks she hates college.

She thought it would be fun, a chance to get the hell out of Lima and never look back, but now, a few months in, she is tired.

Cheerleading sucks. She barely has a friend on the squad and they all think she’s some kind of grade A bitch when she’s just being honest. She doesn’t even _like_ cheerleading much anymore, really, hasn’t loved it since maybe junior year when she, Brittany and Quinn quit in favor of glee, but the scholarship meant graduating with at least some sort of plan (and it was _Brittany’s_ idea), so she took it without question and said thank you.

Louisville reminds her of everything she hates about Lima. The midwest isn’t her style, she’s decided.

Sometimes, she eyes the box in the corner of her dorm, the one with the money her mother gave her to start a life in New York if she wanted to. She thinks about it sometimes, but she can’t seem to just go ahead and do it.

Most of all, Santana _really_ misses Brittany.

They don’t talk much now that they’re broken up, not that they were doing a lot of talking with Santana’s busy schedule before that either, but Santana feels like a part of her is gone. For four years, Brittany was practically Santana’s whole world, from the minute they met at Cheerios tryouts at the start of freshman year. Part of her is missing, and she isn’t really sure what to do without the Brittany-sized hole in her life.

So when Finn calls her up and asks if she can come down for the weekend to play Rizzo is his stupid production of Grease, Santana doesn’t hesitate.

Her cheer coach will kill her and she’ll probably be behind in her classes, but Santana doesn’t care.

She needs to see Brittany.

 _“Are you sure this is a good idea?”_ Quinn asks over the phone.

Santana rolls her eyes, leaning back in the driver’s seat as she says, “I’m already on the way to Lima, Q. Can’t really stop me now.”

Quinn lets out a sigh. _“Just take care of yourself, San. Focus on the play.”_

“I will, I will,” Santana insists.

And she _does._

Because for every bit of love that fills her chest when she’s around Brittany that weekend, she thinks about the way she wasn’t there for her during Brittany 2.0 week, how Brittany _needed_ her and she wasn’t there.

She will not be the one who hurts Brittany.

(It is still worth getting yelled at by her coach in front of the whole squad and having twice the amount of assignments for class when Brittany gives her a hug and tells her she misses her.)

* * *

Santana practically flings herself at Quinn before she hugs anyone else in that auditorium when they meet up for Thanksgiving break.

“Woah, hey,” Quinn laughs into her hair, slender arms coming around her waist.

So maybe Santana’s gone a little soft since they all graduated. Who cares? She’s missed all these losers more than she’ll ever admit out loud.

“Hi Q,” she grins widely as she pulls away.

Quinn’s eyes are filled with warmth and a familiarity Santana’s missed since they all parted ways, and she feels like she’s really _home_ . She looks around at the rest of her old friends, and for a minute Louisville seems like an alternate reality. All she understands is the fact Puck’s mohawk is gone and Finn is starting to dress like Mr. Schue and it is _so_ good to be back in this place. Finn pulls her into a tight hug and Santana doesn’t fight it. Instead, she welcomes his embrace and melts against his chest.

“How are things with Brittany?” Quinn asks in a quiet voice as they all follow Finn to the choir room.

Santana shrugs, slowing down so they’re farther behind than everyone else. “We’re fine. We talk every now and then, but you know how busy I am. We’re still friends, though.”

Quinn nods, an encouraging smile on her face. “You are both being very mature about it.”

“I love her,” Santana reminds her, a ghost of a smile on her face. “I just need her in my life.”

The comment earns her a supportive squeeze on the arm from Quinn, but neither get another word in because Brittany is clambering over the choir room seats to hug both of them and there is laughing and maybe a tear or two and lots of smiling, and Santana feels like she’s home.

“The Unholy Trinity back together,” Quinn smirks.

“Can’t keep us apart,” Santana deadpans with a mischievous smile.

Brittany just grins at both of them. “I missed you guys.”

And for a week, even though she and Quinn end up slapping the shit out of each other, she feels like nothing has changed.

She counts every smile and every laugh she’s able to pull out of Brittany, saving them for when she’s sad and lonely in Kentucky.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Brittany tells Santana when she stays for sectionals.

Santana can’t help but smile, drinking in the way Brittany’s eyes shine with happiness. “I’m really glad, too.”

At sectionals, while the graduated members watch the New Directions perform, she feels Quinn’s elbow nudge into her ribs.

“Ow, what?” she snaps, scowling at her.

“You’re drooling,” Quinn informs her, a slight tease in her tone.

Santana knows by the way Quinn’s lips quiver to hide a smile that their fight is over and they are back to being the Quinn and Santana they’ve always been. She rolls her eyes, unable to help the smile of her own.

“Shut it, Fabray.”

* * *

Santana falls in love with New York all over again when she visits.

At this point, she dropped out from the University of Louisville a few weeks ago, but she’s technically still enrolled so she kind of just stays in her dorm like, all the time until she can figure out her next move. She hasn’t told anyone though, definitely not her parents and _especially_ not her friends from home. She is mortified of telling people her current state - Santana Lopez, a college dropout without even a full year under her belt and certainly no plan in mind.

But her problems are so far away when she lands at JFK. Just like her junior year of high school, Santana is entranced by the hustle and bustle and the way she knows deep down that she has always been made for New York City.

If she’s being honest, she wasn’t all that inclined to fly all the way out here to tell Rachel Berry not to do a nude scene, but Quinn proposes they look at it as a mini vacation to shop and explore and well, Santana can’t say no to that.

(Quinn’s mother also books the hotel room for them so really, how can Santana refuse a free place to stay?)

“How’s school?” Quinn asks when they meet at the hotel.

Santana shrugs, not quite meeting her eyes. “School’s never really been my thing.”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “That’s a lie and you know it. The only reason you didn’t have as high of a GPA as me in high school is because you didn’t actually try.”

“Whatever,” Santana says with a scoff. “Sorry I’m not as jazzed about lame schoolwork like you are, Miss Ivy League.”

Quinn chuckles. “Missed you, too.”

Santana makes a face at her, but Quinn doesn’t question her about school any further. She lets out a quiet sigh of relief, knowing she’d be in for an earful if Quinn knew the truth.

Everything about New York City feels so lively and fast-paced, something Santana falls easily into. For the first time in a long time, she feels like she’s somewhere she belongs, and her mind drifts back to the box in the corner of her dorm. She wonders, just maybe, if she’d be able to just say screw it and chase after some ridiculous dream.

After walking around the city and shopping for a couple of hours, Quinn insists she has homework she needs to do and practically drags Santana back to the hotel. So while Quinn busies herself with her studies like the real nerd she is, Santana decides to at least _look_ like she’s being productive by pulling out her laptop and scrolling through her favorite Rizzoli and Isles subtext blog.

Silence falls over them and it’s nice, Santana decides. It reminds her of the early days of high school before glee club and teen pregnancy and _it’s better with feelings_ , when Quinn was top dog and Santana was dutifully her right hand woman and they’d do homework at each other’s houses all the time.

It’s just...there’s one person missing, and Santana misses her, even now.

Her phone rings, bringing her out her nostalgia. The sound makes both her and Quinn jump, and when she reaches over to check the caller ID, her brows knit together.

“Who is it?” Quinn questions, turning to look at her.

Santana frowns. “Tina.”

Quinn’s expression mirrors Santana’s own, but the brunette shrugs and answers.

“Uh, hi Tina?”

Santana can hear the busy McKinley High hallway in the background, and she can just picture Tina walking to her next class.

_“One word: Bram. Gotta go, hun.”_

Santana’s mouth opens, but she hears the line go dead before she can even come up with a coherent thought. She pulls her phone away from her ear, staring at it as if Tina will magically call her back.

 _Bram?_ What the fuck is _Bram?_ And why would Tina sound so god damn smug about it?

She is suddenly taken back to high school and five-way phone calls and the way they’d group their names together. If Brittana was her and Brittany - personally, Santana preferred Santanittany - then Bram has to be Brittany and…

Oh god.

Santana’s entire stomach drops and she feels like she might be sick.

Quinn is still watching her from the other side of the room.

“What was that about?”

Santana snaps up to meet her gaze, almost forgetting she was in the room. It takes her a moment to formulate her sentence.

“Brittany’s dating Sam.”

Saying it out loud feels like a foreign language on her tongue, like she cannot have said that correctly. Deep down, she knows she’s right.

Quinn looks at her as if she hasn’t heard correctly. “Like...dating, dating?”

“I don’t know that bitch hung up on me,” Santana glares at her phone, and before she’s even realizing it she’s pulling up her contacts and calling the first person she knows will give her a straight answer.

(Spoiler: it’s not Brittany or Sam.)

“Who are you calling?” Quinn asks, beginning to crawl across her bed towards Santana’s bed.

Santana waves her off, waiting for the line to stop ringing as she puts it on speaker.

_“Santana? Did you butt dial me?”_

Santana doesn’t even roll her eyes at the question. She has one thing on her mind.

“Is it true?” she asks almost breathlessly.

_“Is what true?”_

He sounds confused, and in hindsight Santana can’t blame him, but right now she pictures that dumb, dopey clueless look that’s probably on his face and it makes her angry.

“Brittany and that damn Trouty mouth,” Santana snaps.

 _“Oh,”_ he says, understanding sinking in. There’s a pause and then, _“She didn’t tell you?”_

It stings more than it should. It stings because suddenly there’s things about Brittany that everyone else but her seems to know. It stings because Finn is around Brittany and Santana isn’t. It stings because _Finn Hudson_ of all people knows something about Brittany she doesn’t.

She can feel the sympathy from Quinn, but it only makes Santana’s jaw clench.

Finn fills the silence with, _“They’ve been dating for a few months now. I don’t...I don’t know how it started. It kind of just did.”_

Santana feels the bed shift and knows Quinn is sitting on her bed now, but she doesn’t dare look up. She keeps her eyes fixed on her phone, on Finn’s name.

“Oh” is all she can say.

Because what else can she say? She technically doesn’t have a right to be mad. They broke up. Santana _told_ Brittany months ago that it’s okay if she dates other people. She had meant it, because they needed this, but now, knowing Brittany is actually _dating_ someone and that it’s Sam Trouty Mouth Evans of all people...now it just hurts.

Brittany dating Sam reminds her of junior year - an angry, scared version of herself that felt nowhere near good enough for Brittany.

It also reminds her of the vicious person she used to be, stealing Quinn’s boyfriend as revenge.

(Well, at least all three of them have dated Sam now.)

“San,” Quinn murmurs quietly, a hand coming out to touch her.

Santana flinches away, shaking her head as she shakes her head. Quinn retreats and watches her carefully.

_“I’m sorry, Santana.”_

Finn’s voice is soft and genuine. She knows he means it, knows he’s always been quietly rooting for them even when he called her out in the hallway last year. But she can’t do this, not now and not with Finn of all people.

“Don’t be,” she insists, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I broke up with her. She can date that large-lipped loser for all I care.”

She adds a mirthy chuckle at the end in hopes of getting her point across, in hopes of keeping the act up. When she looks up at Quinn, who is watching her carefully, she knows at least one person isn’t buying it.

Finn mumbles something about lesson plans so Santana hangs up without much of a goodbye, tossing her phone towards the other end of her bed. 

“Santana,” Quinn tries again.

Santana swallows down yet another lump that’s built up in her throat, looking at Quinn with a quirked eyebrow.

“What do you want, Fabray?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Santana scowls at her. “Don’t start going soft on me. We’ve never been those stupid friends who talk about our feelings and all that other crap.”

“No, we never have been,” Quinn admits with a sad smile. “But I’m here for you, you know?”

And Santana would _never_ admit it, but it’s nice to hear. For so long, Santana’s world revolved around Brittany that she kind of forgot about having other friends she could lean on. Glee gave her that, in a way, but Brittany was always able to see right through her act, was able to tell when Santana was sad or something was bothering her or she was anxious. Without Brittany to fall on when things go wrong, Santana is relieved that Quinn is still steady and patient. It’s a different kind of balance between them, and sometimes they’re much too alike, but even with all the bullshit Santana’s handed her, Quinn is still here.

Santana swings her legs off the bed and walks across the room as she says, “Yeah, yeah, cut the crap, Q. We need to head over to Lady Hummel’s before Berry gets home.”

She’s sorting through her pile of clothes she tossed into her suitcase before her flight when she suddenly feels arms wrapping around her and before she knows it, Quinn is pressed against her back.

Instead of snapping and jerking away, Santana lets herself relax in Quinn’s embrace. They stay like that for a long moment, and even though Santana knows they will never talk about this ever again - and that Santana will _end_ Quinn if she ever tries to - she feels a lot less alone.

Quinn finally pulls away, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head as she goes.

“That was gross,” Santana deadpans.

Quinn laughs. “Come on, we have to talk Rachel out of a nude scene.”

Neither of them bring up Brittany or Sam or the high school drama of Lima the rest of their trip. Rachel Berry is more tolerable - maybe even more _likable_ \- than Santana remembers, and she’s convinced now more than ever that New York is where she’s always meant to be.

When Santana leaves for the airport, she gives Quinn an uncharacteristic hug.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, hoping she doesn’t have to explain herself.

Quinn gets it right away, giving her a quick squeeze in return. “Anytime.”

There’s a pause and then in a soft mumble, “Sorry for slapping you, but you did it first.”

Quinn laughs, eyes bright. “Sorry for slapping you, too.”

* * *

It’s a stupid plan, almost like she’s asking for trouble, but there always has been a part of Santana that can’t help but try to sabotage anything decent in her life. So when Finn asks her _yet again_ if she can come help out with a glee lesson, she happily obliges as the wheels in her mind start turning.

It’s not hard to get her old teammates on board. Even Elaine, who she has to fork over some extra incentive to play her girlfriend, doesn’t have to give too much thought into it.

Santana doesn’t call Quinn that week. She knows all she’ll get is an earful about how she needs to give Brittany space or whatever bullshit she’s bound to spew. As far as Santana’s concerned, she’s doing this for her good old friend Lumps the Clown.

She won’t admit to anyone, but putting on her old Louisville cheer uniform feels good. For as much as she dreaded the concept for cheerleading the past few months in college, it feels like she’s found her fit again when she wears it at McKinley.

“I can’t believe you haven’t told anyone you dropped out,” Elaine comments, shaking her head.

Santana rolls her eyes. “Mind your own fucking business.”

Elaine just shrugs, never one to be offended or be affected by Santana’s comments, and goes along with everything Santana asks.

If wearing her cheerleading uniform was a familiar rush, then performing in front of people - even glee club - is almost euphoric. She doesn’t know if it’s because she’s back in that god damn choir room dancing around like she owns the place, or if it’s simply because it feels good to sing and dance and shine like she used to. Either way, as she belts out Tina Turner, Finn’s proud smile and everyone else’s attention on her are what fuel her.

Santana’s felt lost for months now, but here, in this choir room doing what she loves the most, she feels like she’s found herself again. She just tries not to smile too big or look too smug when she’s done.

Her plan, for all intents and purposes, works. Not that she had come up with much. It was really just to look like she was thriving as a University of Louisville cheerleader and make it very clear that she’s just as happy in a new relationship as Brittany was. It throws Brittany off, has Finn give her a strange but supportive look and makes Tina look the slightest bit afraid of her for a moment.

It’s all fun and games - especially when she makes it _very_ clear to Sam she’s not done fighting for Brittany - until Sue Sylvester just has to kill her buzz. She always does so Santana should’ve known better.

As if on cue, as soon as she leaves Sue’s office, her phone rings.

It’s Quinn. Shit.

“What do you want, Fabray?” she asks when she decides to answer the call.

 _“Why didn’t you tell me you dropped out of school?”_ Quinn asks, sounding a mix of hurt and frustrated.

Santana rolls her eyes as she replies, “You’re not in charge of me. I don’t have to tell you every detail of my life.”

 _“Okay,”_ Quinn concedes. _“But that’s a pretty big detail to leave out, don’t you think?”_

Santana doesn’t have time for this. “How did you find out?”

_“Sue, obviously. She called me and asked if I knew what ‘sandbags’ was up to these days.”_

“Well, if you’re so curious,” Santana begins with dripping sarcasm. “Coach Sylvester has offered me a position as her assistant. I’ll take over when she retires.”

There’s silence for a moment and then Quinn lets out a scoff.

_“You can’t seriously be considering that.”_

“Why not?” Santana asks, scowling.

Quinn lets out a noise of disbelief. _“San, you’re so much better than being Sue’s little bitch. We’ve already done that, remember? You’re meant for bigger things than coaching your high school’s cheerleaders.”_

“Six time national-winning cheerleaders,” Santana corrects defensively. “I’d be walking into a dynasty.”

 _“Santana,”_ Quinn stresses, and that’s enough for Santana to know how disappointed and kind of pissed Quinn is about this entire situation.

And yeah, maybe she should’ve mentioned it to Quinn. With Brittany not exactly in the picture, Quinn’s the closest thing to a best friend she has. But still, this is the exact reason she didn’t say a word.

“You know what, I don’t have time for this,” Santana tells her with an eye roll. “I have to meet Brittany in the auditorium.”

Quinn sighs. _“At least she can try to talk some sense into you.”_

“Fuck off, Quinn.”

Santana hangs up with a scoff.

(Brittany _does_ talk sense into her because - well, of course, she knows Santana better than she knows her own self - and Santana hates Quinn for being at least a little bit right.

She leaves McKinley High with a one-way ticket to New York and Brittany still proving to be her biggest supporter - even if she doesn’t dump Trouty Mouth. Santana wonders if she could’ve saved herself the trouble if she’d just told Brittany what was going on from the start.)

Santana is boarding her flight with a weird mixture of anxiety and excitement fluttering around in her stomach when her phone buzzes with a new series of texts. When she reads them, a smile finds her face and she feels the anxiety in her stomach disappear. Instead, a warm feeling fills her up as she types her reply.

* * *

**Brittany :)**  
iMessage  
Today 11:40 AM  
  


Have a safe flight!! <3  
Go do big things in New York!  
Miss you already :(

Thanks Britt Britt! I miss you too <3

* * *

Hooking up with Quinn at the Schuester-Pillsbury (failed) wedding was never part of her Valentine’s Day plan. Not that she even had a plan for Valentine’s Day to begin with, really.

She just wanted to attend this dumb wedding, avoid Brittany and Sam at all costs, and drink the night away with the one bitch who could always keep up with her.

Instead, she finds herself at a wedding where the bride runs away, the reception still happens and Quinn being a different type of Quinn that Santana’s never seen before. She has no idea if it’s the alcohol or the desperate need for affection, but Quinn makes her forget the ache in her chest at the sight of Brittany and Sam together all night, never one without the other. She makes her forget about the way Brittany’s eyes are bright and how much she laughs with Sam. Quinn makes Santana forget just how badly she wants to pull Brittany away for just one dance, to feel Brittany’s arms around her one more time.

At first, when she looks at Quinn, there is a deeper ache in her chest. She longs for days where she was Quinn’s right hand and everything with Brittany was light and easy. She longs for the days Brittany’s pinky was practically glued to hers, the days where the three of them did everything together. The days when Sam Evans was nonexistent to them.

They drink until they can’t see straight - although Santana will argue she’s _never_ seen straight to begin with - and Quinn stares too long and leaves lingering touches and holds her close and tells her she likes slow dancing with a girl and - well, what is Santana supposed to do when Quinn seems to be doing everything right?

(Much, much later, they will both joke about how it was bound to happen with the way they’ve always figured out a way to push each other’s buttons and step over each other to get what they wanted in high school.

“Don’t fucking say it was sexual tension over the years,” Santana will snort.

“I’m just saying,” Quinn will respond with a smirk and a shrug before Santana playfully shoves her.)

It’s not that it’s bad, but it’s just...not exactly where she thought she’d find herself on Valentine's Day at Mr. Schuester’s poor attempt at a wedding. It’s not that she’s never considered what it’d be like to sleep with Quinn. It’s just...well, she’s not exactly the blonde Santana misses seeing in bed, is all.

Sobered up and claiming the bottom half of the bed again after the _second_ round, Santana is just relieved Quinn is trying as hard as she is not to make _this_ a big deal. It’s also reassuring because - well, Quinn Fabray is certified psychotic when she decides you’re her new object of affection. The last thing Santana wants is Quinn clinging on to her like she did with Finn for years.

“So is it safe to say you have a thing for blondes?” Quinn teases, a stupid smirk on her lips.

Santana glares at her, reaching over and grabbing a pillow before effectively smacking Quinn in the face.

“Ow!”

“Fuck off, Q,” Santana growls, but it lacks the usual amount of snark.

“Sorry,” Quinn smiles softly.

Santana narrows her eyes at her friend. “No, you’re not.”

Quinn’s smile turns into a guilty grin as she agrees, “No, I’m not.” 

Santana gives a heavy eye roll, but she can’t help the chuckle that falls out of her mouth. Her friendship with Quinn has been anything but easy - and now add this situation in the mix - but she’s kind of glad Quinn is with her right now.

It certainly beats the alternative, she supposes.

“Look,” Santana starts, reaching over to pull a shirt out of her open suitcase before tossing it at Quinn. “I won’t force you to do the walk of shame tonight if you put on some of my clothes and watch whatever dumb romcom is on TV before we go to bed.”

Quinn laughs, tugging Santana’s t-shirt over her head without complaint. “Not the worst Valentine’s Day ever, I guess.”

But the way Quinn softens when she looks at Santana again tells the brunette that her friend knows what this is really about. Santana doesn’t want to be left alone, not on this night and not with Brittany possibly still somewhere in this hotel with her blonde mop of a boyfriend.

Santana is infinitely grateful for Quinn in this moment.

She’ll never tell her that, though.

Instead, she smirks and asks, “Better than getting mono?”

It earns her a pillow thrown at her face, but Santana’s laughing as Quinn reminds her just how much of a bitch she is for what she did back when they were both such different people.

(The next morning, when they stumble out of the hotel room in sweats and hoodies from Santana’s messy suitcase, hungover and in desperate need of coffee, they run into Brittany and Sam in the lobby.

Sam gives them a friendly smile, but Brittany stares at them for a long moment - at _Santana_ specifically - and neither of them say more than a forced hello, but something about it tells Santana that Brittany _knows._ She knows that Quinn is wearing Santana’s second favorite pair of sweats, that Brittany has worn the same oversized hoodie countless times, insisting she likes it because it always smells like Santana.

She shouldn’t feel guilty - they’re not dating anymore. She’s not Brittany’s girlfriend. But these facts don’t make Santana feel any better.

After they walk away, Quinn tells her not to worry about it, but her lip is twisted and she looks a little guilty. Santana doesn’t say anything, just grabs Quinn’s wrist to drag her to the nearest coffee shop.

Santana doesn’t speak to Brittany again before she flies back to New York.)

* * *

Santana feels like she is settling into New York with ease.

Sure, Rachel had a pregnancy scare and Santana had to do a little scheming to get rid of the sketchy, Ken doll boyfriend, but other than that she’s finding her groove pretty nicely. She still has no idea what the hell she’s going to do, but step one of her “Chasing Fame” plan is done.

Dance classes are a welcome to routine, though, and it helps remind Santana why she loves performing so much. In the dance studio, she isn’t Santana the cheerleader or Santana the lesbian or Santana the bitch. She’s just Santana, the one who loves to dance and feels that rush when she nails choreography. She loves it even more when said dance classes land her a date with an off Broadway choreographer who looks like an absolute _dream._

New York was meant for chasing dreams and moving on, and Santana knows that. Quinn reminds her on the phone, too.

 _“I just looked at her Instagram,”_ Quinn says over FaceTime. _“She’s gorgeous, San.”_

Santana smirks, but her cheeks flush just a little. “I know, she’s also like, twenty-three.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow for approval. _“And you’re going to get drinks with her?”_

Santana gives her a wicked smirk, holding up her fake ID she’d used at the wedding. Quinn laughs and for the first time in a long time, going on a date with someone feels exciting again.

 _“This is good for you, you know,”_ Quinn mentions, an encouraging grin on her face.

Instead of snapping, she nods and offers a small smile. “I know, Q.”

Lima, Ohio seems so far away these days, almost like it was in a different lifetime. Her only reminders are Rachel and Kurt and Quinn, and even then it feels like the glee club days are so far behind. So when she’s scrambling around the apartment the next day, trying to change and zoom out of the apartment before she’s embarrassingly late, she is hesitant to answer when _Trouty Mouth_ pops up on her phone’s caller ID.

But she answers anyway, entertaining the conversation.

(Santana will never admit part of her was hoping Brittany would be on the other end.)

She tries not to let herself fill up with hope when Sam tells her Brittany broke up with him. She downplays it, as if that was an obvious decision that was bound to happen. She can’t go back to waiting and hoping and missing her ex-girlfriend. She’s about to get drinks with a hot _choreographer_ for crying out loud - 

Wait. Maybe Santana has things for dancers.

Sam mentions Brittany and MIT - which, Santana didn’t even _know_ MIT was on the table let alone a place Brittany would seriously visit and considering attending - and something aches inside of her because she and Brittany aren’t the best friends they always were.

She’s known that for months now, but it hits harder now, knowing Brittany is making decisions about her future and Santana no longer gets to be part of the conversation.

 _“Listen,”_ Sam tries to break through to her, the worry evident in his voice. _“I know I’m not your favorite person, but I also know I’d help if you asked me to.”_

Santana pauses in her movements, eyes wandering to her phone. She knows even though Sam stole her girlfriend - technically he didn’t _actually_ steal her, but still - he’s harmless at the end of the day. For Christ’s sake, they did date in high school and Santana wasn’t _completely_ miserable during the relationship.

He knows what maybe they all do. Santana will do anything for her friends, especially if that friend is Brittany.

_“Something...something is really, really wrong.”_

Her shirt is still only halfway on and she’s staring at her phone as if Sam or even Brittany will materialize out of nowhere. She is so afraid of what happens if she falls for this, if she finds herself back in Lima with Brittany. She is trying _so_ hard to get over this girl, but just when Santana is finding a way to move on, Brittany is there, needing her.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she finally agrees.

She spends the subway ride to her date booking a train ticket for the first thing in the morning to Lima, deciding not to tell anyone about it.

Her date is funny and sexy and witty and doing everything that _should_ make Santana fall in love, but her mind wanders to a different dancer, one who dances as easily as she breathes and reminds Santana just how awesome she is every time she forgets.

* * *

Santana kind of hates the way Brittany looks at her when she opens the front door of her house, like Santana just pulled off the best surprise ever.

What she hates even more, though, is the way her entire body feels _alive_ in a way she can’t describe when Brittany smiles at her, when she pulls her into a hug that Santana melts into too easily.

(Quinn has texted and called periodically throughout the day to ask about her date, but Santana’s decidedly ignoring all her friend’s attempts at contact.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket as Brittany hugs her, and she ignores that, too.)

When Brittany finally tells her about MIT, Santana is in complete shock, but then pride fills her in a way that only ever does when it comes to Brittany, and she’s leaning over and hugging her best friend.

“Britt! This is incredible!” she exclaims as Brittany wraps her arms around her. “I always knew you were a genius.”

Brittany smiles a little. “You really did.”

When Santana pulls away, she sees the way Brittany’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes and how she can’t quite keep eye contact with Santana for more than a second or two at a time. Realization settles in on what this has really been about - the outburst, the breaking up with Sam, the weird attitude. She softens then, waiting until Brittany looks at her again before she speaks.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Santana assures her. 

Brittany frowns. “Things are really going to change.”

Before she can even think about it, she reaches out and holds Brittany’s hand in hers. It’s like second nature, really, when it comes to Brittany. Brittany takes her hand, lacing their fingers together while keeping her eyes on Santana the whole time.

It makes Santana feel better that this feels just as natural for Brittany, too.

“Change happens,” Santana reminds her. “Just like I dropped out and moved to New York, remember? You’re going to go to MIT and everyone is going to realize just how much of a genius you really are, and it’s scary, but Brittany, it’s going to be okay.”

Brittany doesn’t look convinced. “But how do you know?”

Santana gives her a slight smile. “Because I know you and how awesome you are. Because I believe in you, Britt.”

It feels like the two of them find themselves in this conversation again and again. Their friendship has always been constant reminders of the best in each other, even when things feel at their worst. Something inside of Santana settles when she realizes that she and Brittany still know each other best.

Brittany’s eyes turn hopeful and there’s that smile that Santana loves, the one that tells her that Brittany believes what she’s saying, that she’ll go along with what Santana tells her.

“You’re the most awesome best friend,” Brittany concludes with a nod of finality.

Santana laughs, opening up her arms. “Come here, you MIT genius.”

Brittany giggles and falls into Santana’s embrace.

Hot off Broadway choreographers are the farthest thing in Santana’s mind right now. Here, in Brittany’s bedroom with Brittany in her arms, she feels like she’s home. She takes in Brittany’s shampoo and her fruity perfume, reveling in the fact she hasn’t held Brittany like this in so long.

They’re pulled apart by the aggressive buzzing of Santana’s phone on the table. Leaning over to read the name, Santana groans.

“Who is it?” Brittany asks curiously.

Santana rolls her eyes. “It’s just Quinn. She’s been trying to get a hold of me all day.”

Brittany’s eyes widen at the sound of the name, a smile on her face. “Oh my god, let’s answer! I want to tell her about MIT!”

Oh. Oh no. Santana does _not_ want Quinn to know she’s here right now.

“You can tell her later,” Santana tries. “Really, she’s just being an annoying bitch.”

Brittany waves her off and says, “Be nice, San” before she’s snatching the phone off the table sliding the answer button. She holds the phone in front of her face, a wide smile plastered on.

Santana tries to reach for her phone to hang up, but Brittany swats her hand away quickly.

 _“God, Santana, you haven’t answered your phone all day-”_ Quinn starts and Santana realizes she’s very much not looking at the screen, but Brittany is too excited to let her finish.

“Hi Quinny!” she exclaims, waving wildly at the camera.

There are only two people who get away with calling Quinn “Quinny” and somehow Brittany is one of them - not that she blames Quinn, it’s _Brittany._ Santana tried to call her that once - it earned her a slap across the face.

Quinn’s eyes snap to her phone and they narrow, confused and cautious all at once. Brittany is still grinning wildly.

 _“Brittany?”_ she frowns. _“Where’s Santana?”_

“Oh, she’s right here,” Brittany explains, shifting the camera so Santana is not in frame.

Santana puts on the least uncomfortable smile she can at the moment and offers a weak wave. “Hey Fabray.”

As if it’s possible, Quinn’s eyes somehow narrow even more on Santana. Her jaw twitches just a little, and Santana just _knows_ Quinn will give her an earful when Brittany isn’t next to her.

 _“What are you doing in Lima?”_ Quinn asks in an even voice, but Santana knows her better.

“A last minute emergency,” Santana shrugs, trying to play it off. “I took the Lima Express this morning.”

Quinn quirks an eyebrow at her, but she doesn’t comment further on the situation. It’s almost like a stare off between them through their phone screens, and before either one can declare themselves a winner, Brittany is shifting again so both she and Santana are in view.

“Well, since you called, I have some very big news to tell you,” Brittany practically beams, and Santana instantly softens, that proud smile on her face at how quickly Brittany has embraced her situation.

She looks confident and excited and all the things she wasn’t just a few minutes ago. 

This time, Quinn raises both her eyebrows, looking at them curiously. Santana looks at Brittany so she doesn’t have to worry about all the assumptions Quinn is currently making in her head.

 _“What’s the news?”_ Quinn asks carefully.

Brittany looks excitedly at Santana, who gives her an encouraging nod before Brittany is beaming back at Quinn on the phone.

“I’m going to MIT!” Brittany all but squeals, and Santana can’t help the grin on her lips, or how her eyes can’t seem to tear away from Brittany.

 _“Oh my...wait, what?”_ Quinn asks, but Santana doesn’t even bother to look at her.

Brittany has all her attention, like she’s always had over the years. A spell that can’t quite break, especially not when Brittany is bright and loud and sure of herself.

As Brittany launches into a similar explanation she gave Santana, the brunette is more than happy to just sit there and smile and look like the proud best friend she is. Even if Quinn looks like she can’t quite believe this is happening, it doesn’t matter. Right now, all that matters is the way Brittany is coming into her own and Santana gets to say a big fat _I told you so_ to everyone who ever made Brittany feel stupid.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Quinn’s smile growing and her eyes brightening. It makes her heart warm. Maybe Quinn never saw the same genius in Brittany that Santana always did, but she never _ever_ made Brittany feel the way other people did.

 _“This is amazing, Brittany!”_ Quinn exclaims when Brittany finishes. _“Congratulations. I’m so proud of you!”_

Brittany’s grin grows impossibly wider and Santana all but melts. She kind of wishes Quinn was here and not at Yale right now so that they could all properly celebrate together. In the back of her mind, she remembers a night in Brittany’s room, the three of them dancing around with music blasting and feeling on top of the world after their first regionals win with the Cheerios. A part of Santana aches for those days, when things were so much simpler.

“Thanks,” Brittany smiles, bashful yet still full of pride.

Santana leans in towards the camera. “You’ve got some competition now, Ivy League.”

Quinn laughs, looking at them fondly. _“I think I’m okay with that.”_

“Well as great as it was to share this news, I think I owe Brittany a dinner at Breadstix in celebration,” Santana announces, taking the phone out of Brittany’s hands as the blonde lets out a squeal of approval at their plans. “Great talk, Q.”

Quinn rolls her eyes, and there are questions on her tongue, but she’s smart enough to hold off at the moment when she sees the fake smile Santana is putting on.

 _“Fine,”_ Quinn relents. _“You two have fun. Santana, call me when you’re back in New York.”_

Santana lets out a scoff. “Ugh, fine whatever. Bye.”

She hangs up before Quinn can get another word in and gives a hard eye roll. When her eyes fall back on Brittany, there is a question in her eyes and Santana can’t deny her. She looks at Brittany curiously.

“What?”

Brittany hesitates then asks, “Are you and Quinn…?”

It takes half a second for Santana to understand the question and she’s frantically shaking her head as she says, “No no no - oh god, no. We’re not - gross. Quinn’s just Quinn. We catch up a lot on the phone.”

“Oh,” Brittany nods, seemingly taking the information in. “Okay.”

Santana probably shouldn’t ask, but she does anyway. “Why would you think that?”

Brittany bites her lip and shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s just...at the wedding…”

Santana’s panic rises. She was right. Brittany _knew._

“Oh, Britt no,” she immediately shuts down. “That wasn’t...we were really, really drunk. It’s not...I would never do that again, drunk or sober.”

And it’s weird now that it’s out in the air. Brittany knows without a doubt now what Santana and Quinn were up to after the reception. It didn’t _mean_ anything and she’d definitely never sleep with Quinn again, and she needs Brittany to understand that. She has a feeling there are doubts and questions in Brittany’s mind.

“We were both single and hammered at a wedding on Valentine’s Day,” Santana explains. “I’ve never - I would never - not Quinn, never.”

Brittany seems to make sense of the rambling mess that Santana’s become. Santana can tell by the way Brittany’s shoulders relax and the worry disappears from her eyes. It helps Santana breathe a little easier, realizing she’s gotten her point across.

“Okay,” she nods, convinced by Santana’s mess of an explanation. “So Breadstix?”

Santana smiles, tugging at Brittany’s wrist playfully as she slides off the bed and confirms, “Breadstix.”

(It’s no surprise Brittany talks her into staying for regionals. Santana has always been putty in Brittany’s hands, especially when she gives her those big, gorgeous blue eyes and adds a “please, San? It’s my last competition. I think you’re like a good luck charm.” 

And anyway, she’s not exactly in a rush to get to New York. Not when it feels like she and Brittany have figured out this new rhythm, one where they aren’t sleeping together and it’s not totally awkward.

She helps Brittany pack her life away and rides with her family to the airport, and she wonders if she and Brittany have finally figured out how to be best friends without having to worry about the _being exes_ part of it all.)

* * *

_“So you bought yourself a ticket to Lima on your way to a date because Sam told you something was going on?”_ Quinn clarifies.

Santana is her New York apartment alone while Kurt and Rachel are at NYADA. She is exhausted from her train back, and rolls her eyes at Quinn in annoyance.

“Yes Quinn, I booked a ticket to see my ex-girlfriend on my way to drinks with the hot choreographer,” Santana answers, knowing there’s irony in it all.

_“San.”_

“She’s my best friend, okay?” Santana explains defensively. “Break up or not, I still care about her. Sam wouldn’t have called me over nothing.”

Quinn sighs. _“I mean, I guess he was right. I just worry about you, you know. I know you’re trying to move on.”_

Santana shrugs. “And I still am. Britt’s at MIT and I’m here in New York. It’s just not going to work and I’m okay with that.”

_“But are you really?”_

“I will be,” Santana insists, looking away from her phone. “I feel like me and Brittany have finally figured out how to be friends again without it being weird, you know? Like this was the perfect way to get things back to how they were before all of it happened.”

Quinn purses her lips and kind of looks like she doesn’t believe her, and Santana kind of wants to snap at her for it, but she’s too tired so she lets it go.

 _“Just don’t be afraid to move on,”_ Quinn reminds her. _“You deserve to be happy with someone, San.”_

“Ugh, you’re getting gross on me, Fabray,” Santana deadpans. “I need a _siesta_ so I’m hanging up now.”

But, really, she’s happy to have Quinn on her side.

* * *

Dani is unlike anyone she’s ever been with.

Besides being an _actual_ full lesbian, she is direct with her flirting and what she wants and Santana finds herself a complete and utter gay mess.

It’s scary and nerve wracking and gets Santana in her head in a _completely_ different way than Brittany did.

Once she got over her fears, dating Brittany was easy. Nothing really changed when they officially figured it out, it just fell so naturally between them, but Santana figures that’s because they’d been best friends and walking that strange line for years. It just felt like she could finally breathe in public, being with Britany in that way.

But Dani is different. Dani isn’t Santana’s best friend, she’s a girl who’s been into Santana romantically since the start and Santana isn’t quite sure how to go about it. She hasn’t seriously done this traditional “dating” thing with someone who makes her stomach flip or gives her butterflies, like, ever, so it’s weird, trying to figure it out.

Dani understands, though, and she laughs and tells Santana she’s adorable and kisses away her worries.

“It’s okay,” Dani promises with that big smile Santana adores. “We can take it as slow or as fast as you need to.”

It’s enough to reassure Santana, and she tells herself to stop thinking so hard about it, and before she knows it she and Dani are _girlfriends_ and Santana really likes the sound of that.

She feels happier, lighter almost when she’s with Dani. She hasn’t felt this way since...well, Santana hasn’t felt this way since Brittany. It’s good, Santana knows, just another sign that she’s getting over a relationship that just wasn’t working.

 _“Dani sounds awesome,”_ Quinn tells her over the phone one day. _“I’d love to meet her one day.”_

Santana snorts. “I don’t need your approval on my girlfriends, Q.”

Quinn laughs. _“No, you don’t. I just want to meet someone who makes you so happy. You sound so much happier, San. It’s a good look.”_

“Gee, thanks,” Santana deadpans, but she’s grinning because she does feel happier and she’s glad Quinn can tell. “Come to New York soon then and we can hang out.”

* * *

They get the call right as Santana comes home from her shift at the diner.

Santana can’t recall word for word the conversation. She just remembers Rachel and Kurt huddling over the phone and walking over to them, hearing Carol’s sobs and Burt’s strained voice. She remembers thinking she didn’t hear right, that it must’ve been a mistake, but by the deafening silence and the look in Rachel’s eyes, they didn’t hear wrong.

Finn is gone.

He’s not coming back.

There are plenty of things that hit Santana, but shock is the strongest emotion to come at her. She doesn’t remember the rest of the phone call, but she remembers the three of them collapsing on the couch, a mess of tears and sobs and murmurings of how this can’t be true.

At first, Santana doesn’t even know why she’s crying. Finn Hudson was never her best friend. They did nasty things to each other. Deep down though, she knows Finn cared about her, that he was only trying to help most of the time even if it was dumb and misguided.

Finn was like her annoying brother she couldn’t get rid of, and now she doesn’t even get a chance to tell him how much he really meant to her. She didn’t even _realize_ what he even was to her until now, with dried out eyes and tear stains on her face.

Rachel and Kurt are unable to move, and Santana decides it’s her job to keep her roommates functioning, at least to some extent. She puts both of them in their respective beds, helping wash away tears even though more keep coming. Rachel mentions something about telling the others, and Santana knows immediately what she means by that.

“I’ll...I’ll make some calls,” Santana promises with a nod.

There is one person who needs to know right away, one who can’t wait until the morning when Santana will try to pull herself together so she can be strong for everyone else, too. Someone who loved Finn despite his flaws and clung onto him when they both needed to let go. So she grabs her blanket and her phone and makes her way up to the roof, away from the broken hearts of her two roommates.

With shaking hands, she presses the contact name and holds her breath, hearing it ring. It’s late, she knows it might go to voicemail, but she doesn’t think she can leave a voicemail with news so tragic. 

_“Santana? It’s late.”_

The voice is groggy and full of sleep, and Santana feels even worse because she assumes she’s woken her up.

“Sorry Q,” she mumbles in an uncharacteristically small voice. “I...I had to call you.”

She hears rustling and assumes Quinn is sitting up in her bed. Her heart breaks because she thinks of Quinn in her dorm at Yale, a little annoyed at Santana for waking her up. Santana sniffs a little and wraps her blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Quinn sounds worried when she asks, _“What’s going on?”_

_“It’s Finn.”_

There’s a pause and Santana can imagine Quinn’s confused look, the one where she doesn’t understand why this conversation is happening. Santana squeezes her eyes shut, trying to remove any images from her mind, to just see blackness.

When Quinn doesn’t say anything, Santana’s chest tightens as she relays what Burt told them only hours ago. It doesn’t sound real, not at all, but tears are falling down Santana’s face as she speaks and she feels her chest throb at the sound of Quinn’s broken gasp at the end.

 _“He can’t,”_ Quinn is saying as Santana hears the erratic sounds of her breathing. _“He can’t be - no. Finn isn’t...he’s not…”_

“I’m sorry,” Santana says as she cries, because that’s all she can think of saying.

It doesn’t help at all, but she doesn’t want to stay silent, not when Quinn is hurting as much as she is.

_“Santana…”_

Quinn doesn’t say more, but Santana picks up on everything she isn’t saying. She hears the emotions swimming in her voice, knows the way Quinn hates not being able to do anything, to bring him back.

“I know,” Santana nods fiercely, though she knows Quinn can’t see her.

They stay on the phone for over an hour, not talking much but finding comfort in listening to each other. They don’t hurt alone, and that, for now, is enough.

Santana knows she has calls to make in the morning, that she will have to do her best to keep the tears away so she can help everyone else, but with Quinn, Santana doesn’t hate the way she’s breaking just as much as the other girl right now.

 _“Santana?”_ Quinn says before she hangs up.

“Yeah?”

_“I’m happy you’re here.”_

“You too,” Santana breathes out.

They see each other a week later for the funeral, and with Brittany coming home from MIT, Santana feels like she can let go of the strong act, just for a little, as the three of them gather in Quinn’s childhood bedroom and try to make sense of this loss.

They hold onto each other, and Santana cries with them as they try to understand how this could happen. It’s heartbreaking, really, to have Quinn and Brittany crying alongside her, but then they start telling stories about Finn, the good ones they remember.

Quinn talks about how sweet and clueless Finn was as a boyfriend, how he never completely deserved everything she put him through.

Santana talks about how she took Finn Christmas shopping for Rachel’s present senior year.

Brittany talks about dancing with Finn and how sometimes he’d let her mess around on the drums.

Santana knows somewhere along the line, their friendship known as the Unholy Trinity got weird and complicated, but there is no greater comfort than having her two best friends by her side. She doesn’t have to pretend she’s strong for them, they’ve always been there to catch her.

Brittany looks at her softly, like she understands how delicate and chaotic Santana’s relationship with Finn was - because she _does_ understand and Santana knows it - and Santana cherishes this deeper understanding between them, something that she doesn’t quite have yet with Dani.

(Deep down, Santana wonders if she ever will.)

* * *

Quinn finally makes good on her word about visiting, much to both Santana _and_ Rachel’s delight, and Santana is absolutely beaming when she introduces Quinn to Dani. 

(None of them talk about how being around each other makes the ache less present in their hearts.

It’s a process, but Santana knows Quinn feels less alone when she’s around them.)

She doesn’t tell either of them about how she’s nervous on how this whole thing will go. It’s not like she’s ever needed or wanted Quinn’s approval on who she dates before - see: sleeping with and dating the same boys through almost all of high school - but this is her first girlfriend since Brittany so - well, she kind of just wants to make sure it all goes well. Brittany had like, automatic approval. She probably had Quinn’s approval long before Santana even knew what was happening. So like, she wants Quinn to like Dani, too.

Dani cracks a joke upon introduction and Quinn’s eyes light up. She smirks before giving an easy, witty response and Santana silently lets out a sigh of relief when the moment occurs.

“Are all your friends like this?” Dani teases as she looks at Santana, a wide grin on her face.

Santana smirks. “Only the best ones.”

Quinn raises her eyebrows in approval, as if she wouldn’t have let any other answer fly, and Santana rolls her eyes in response. Dani is quick to ask Quinn about Yale and being an “absolute smarty pants” and Santana is more than content to sit in the background and watch them get along with ease.

Rachel gives her a look of excitement and approval from the other chair and Santana can’t help but smile. She likes this new balance she’s found with Rachel, how easy it is to be around her without the pressures of high school and glee club. Rachel had pushed her to make a move, to actually _go_ for it, and well, Santana’s glad she did.

Dani is smart and sexy and _talented_ and Santana thinks she can see herself falling in love with her as their relationship goes on. She thinks, for once, she’s actually getting somewhere with her new life in New York.

(Blue eyes and red skirts and pinkies linked together seems so far away now, like a distant memory.)

Dani leaves for her shift at the diner after promising she’ll make it to dinner with all of them when she gets off and kisses Santana sweetly before she goes. Quinn looks at Santana, eyebrows raised and a smile on her face.

“So, what do you think, Quinn?” Rachel asks before Santana can even open her mouth. “Isn’t Dani great?”

Quinn lets out a soft chuckle as she nods. “She’s super cool. I like her, San.”

Santana scoffs. “As if I would date someone that wasn’t cool.”

Rachel interjects, “I’m actually the one who set them up, you know. Santana was too sc-”

“Watch it, Berry,” Santana warns with narrowed eyes, but they both know it’s an empty threat.

Quinn looks at her with an amused expression, but doesn’t question any further. Rachel decides to take pity and not finish her sentence.

“It was cute,” Rachel gushes instead, turning back to Quinn. “They’re so into each other.”

“Ugh whatever,” Santana grumbles.

Quinn only laughs, shaking her head at her two friends. She turns to Santana, a smug look on her face. Santana eyes her carefully, wondering just what’s going on in that pretty little brainiac head.

“What, Fabray?”

“You totally _do_ have a thing for blondes.”

Santana shoves her playfully. “Don’t make me kick you out of this apartment on your first day.”

But she’s smiling anyway because yeah, blondes are hot. So what?

“Happiness looks good on you,” Quinn singongs.

“That’s what _I’m_ saying!” Rachel pipes up excitedly.

Santana groans, standing from the couch. “You know what, if you two are going to be like this the whole weekend I’m hiding out in my room.”

“You love it,” Quinn accuses.

“In your dreams,” Santana deadpans.

But maybe she does, just a little.

* * *

First, Santana cannot believe Mr. Schuester has managed to wrangle all of them back together one last time at this damn school.

(Santana hates to admit she loves the reunion, the way she falls at ease with everyone.)

Second, Quinn’s new snobby boyfriend looks like he sucks.

Third, Brittany isn’t being Brittany, and it’s making Santana worry.

Santana’s two best friends are both _clearly_ sending out a cry for help and Santana just doesn’t know what to do about any of it. Quinn is letting yet another man define her life. Brittany is forgetting who she is and what she loves. And Santana? Well, Santana’s decided she can only handle one situation at a time.

Falling back into the role of Brittany’s best friend is easy, and Santana thinks she’s really beginning to move on. Sure, there’s something that tugs at her heart even at the mere sight of the blonde, but Santana is pretty sure something like that doesn’t go away when it comes to having someone like Brittany S. Pierce in her life.

She thinks she knows exactly what Brittany needs - well, exactly what _both_ her blonde friends need. Just a reminder of the bad bitches they are.

“Why don’t you and I reunite a little trio called the Unholy Trinity?” Santana asks with a smirk.

She knows by the way Brittany’s eyes light up for the first time since they’ve returned, she’s got her on board.

Quinn is a little tricker, but when Santana and Brittany manage to find her without her punchable-looking boyfriend and when she shows Quinn the Cheerios uniform, Santana knows Quinn is fighting a smile.

“How did you even get those?” Quinn asks with a shake of her head.

Santana smirks. “We’ve always been Sue’s favorites.”

“Come on, Quinn,” Brittany chimes in. “It’ll be fun!”

Even though she rolls her eyes, Santana knows Quinn has come around by the way she reaches out for one of the uniforms.

“Okay,” Quinn nods, looking back at the other two. “Sure, why not? It’ll be fun.”

And it’s _great._ It’s amazing, really. Santana feels a freedom she hasn’t felt in a long time. She feels so in sync with the two of them because no matter how long they’re apart, they always manage to come together when they reunite without a problem. She misses the days they were all together, when everything happened in threes.

Even after she and Brittany started dating, the three of them were always one unit, always an understanding between them that no one could quite explain.

But Santana is just about ready to go Lima Heights on Quinn’s new boyfriend by the end. How he hardly pays attention to his girlfriend looking this hot is beyond her.

“Dude, you were texting the whole time,” Mike comments when Biff gives a vague statement of approval.

Santana hides a smirk. She’s always liked Boy Chang.

“You know, he’s very busy,” Quinn is quickly explaining, and Santana _has_ to roll her eyes. “And also captain of the water polo team.”

Puck looks especially unimpressed and Santana _would_ go see what’s up his ass, but the bell rings and everyone starts to leave so she turns her attention to Brittany.

“Well, you were amazing as always,” Santana compliments. 

Usually, her compliments on Brittany’s dancing are greeted by a bashful, wide smile and shining eyes. This time, Brittany’s eyes are dull and there is frustration clear on her face.

“No I wasn’t. During the bridge I was off one-sixteenth of a step,” Brittany grumbles.

Santana makes a face. “What are you talking about? You’re the most amazing dancer I’ve ever met.”

And yeah, maybe that’s too much, but Santana’s learned sometimes she can’t exactly control her words when it comes to Brittany. Except Brittany doesn’t even care, going on about complicated math things and Fondue for Two before storming off.

Santana is left there trying to figure out how she’s supposed to help either of her best friends because plan A clearly didn’t work.

* * *

“Okay, can we all agree that Quinn’s new boyfriend sucks?”

Puck mentions it as he’s driving Santana, Artie and Mike to Breadstix. Mike nods fiercely as Artie lets out a noise of agreement.

Santana raises her eyebrows from the passenger’s seat as she turns to Puck. “I mean, yeah, I definitely would love to show him some Lima Heights hospitality, but what’s got your panties in a bunch, Puckerman?”

She watches as Puck’s jaw works for a moment, eyes narrowing just a little as he replies, “I just think Quinn deserves better than that trust fund baby.”

“You and me both,” Santana hums.

“What kind of name is Biff anyway?” Puck scoffs with a shake of his head.

And of _course_ it’s just their luck that Quinn manages to take Biff to the only somewhat decent restaurant in town. He looks so out of place when he calls them over, and Quinn looks hardly recognizable with this persona she’s putting on. It kind of makes Santana sick.

So when Mike starts going on about Quinn’s skank phase, Santana doesn’t feel bad at all about jumping in. It makes Quinn’s skin crawl and Santana knows it, knows how she cracks when she laughs it off and makes up some bullshit excuse to make her boyfriend leave.

“I’m trying to present myself in a particular way,” Quinn explains when Puck asks and Santana has to hold in a snort. “Biff’s family is Philadelphia mainline society and if I can get in with that, then my life is set.”

Santana hates this version of Quinn right now, the one who molds herself to a man’s perspective, who needs a man to be successful and powerful. She also kind of feels bad when she watches the way Puck’s face falls at the realization Quinn hasn’t told this guy anything, really, about her past.

Deciding she’s had enough, she drags Quinn to the bathroom, muttering something about a girl’s trip to the boys as she practically shoves Mike Chang out of the way.

“Ow, Santana,” Quinn hisses as Santana pushes the bathroom door open. “Seriously let go!”

Santana obliges, spinning around with her hands on her hips. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quinn insists, turning to look in the mirror and fix her hair.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Fabray,” Santana glares. “What happened to not letting a man define you, huh?”

“He’s not defining me,” Quinn defends. “Like I said, if I get in with his family I’m set for life. Is it so bad to want something like that?”

Santana scoffs. “If you want to date a grade A asshole, then it’s not worth it.”

“You don’t know him,” Quinn retorts. 

“I know people like him,” Santana assures her, crossing her arms. “And that? Not worth your time, Q.”

Quinn looks at Santana behind her through the mirror.

“You don’t get to tell me how to run my life.”

Santana shrugs. “You’re right, I don’t. But I know you, and you don’t need some rich, snobby family to make it. You know, sometimes I just don’t get how you can’t see how much of a fucking badass you are.”

She watches Quinn’s shoulders drop and her eyes fall to the sink. She can tell Quinn is tired of this conversation, of Santana calling her out on her shit. When she turns around, there is a pleading look in her eyes.

“Please, can we just get through this dinner without an argument?”

Santana holds back a scoff, but she can see the desperation in Quinn’s eyes. She knows this look. It’s the look Quinn gave to Sue Sylvester time and time again. She wants approval, and for some reason, she wants it from Santana.

“Fine,” Santana grumbles, too exhausted to go back and forth.

She keeps her remarks and comebacks from spewing out all dinner, but she grabs her fork so tightly it almost bends and Mike is asking her if she’s okay because she’s _too_ quiet and the only thing Santana takes away from the whole thing - besides the fact Biff boy pays for the whole meal without hesitation - is that Quinn’s boyfriend _sucks._

“We can’t keep letting her date him,” Puck insists on the ride home.

Santana shakes her head, letting out a sigh. “Let Quinn do whatever the fuck she wants. If she wants to pretend she doesn’t come from Lima, Ohio and have a baby, fine. I have enough shit to worry about.”

So she turns her attention back on Brittany’s dilemma and hopes at least one of her best friends will come back to normal by the end of this week.

* * *

Brittany is officially freaking Santana out.

It’s one thing to watch Brittany work on weird math equations, it’s another to watch her use the chess club to play a live action game of chess. Brittany looks so miserable and out of place, but Santana knows exactly what she needs. Just like Santana needed a reminder of how amazing and talented and _big_ she is, Brittany needs to remember how much she loves dancing.

And yeah, Brittany immediately shoots down her suggestion to do a song together in glee as their goodbye - which, yikes deja vu - but Santana won’t be deterred. So she corners Mike in the hall and when he agrees that Brittany needs to snap out of it, she enlists him in her plan.

(Yeah, she’d usually go to Quinn for something like this, but fuck Quinn if she’s going to let herself be a decoration to some rich guy who’s probably never lifted a finger in his life and looks down at all of them.)

“Do you know the dance?” Mike questions. “It’s been awhile.”

Santana gives him a look. “Please, I could do it in my sleep - at least, everything but the flip. Britt made me run it with her a thousand times.”

It makes her smile, the memory of Brittany’s bedroom and music playing and Santana singing her best while Brittany twirls her around. They were in a weird place then, and Santana was barely starting to realize she was in love with her best friend, but they were happy and effortless around each other, and Santana would do anything to see the look on Brittany’s face after the number ends.

When she does get that look, after coaxing Brittany out of her seat and dancing with Mike until she knows Brittany can’t resist, Santana can’t stop smiling the rest of the way through. Dancing with Brittany makes her feel like a high school girl again, the way they move in sync and try not to laugh the whole time.

Quinn looks at them as if she knows something they don’t, but neither of them notice. Santana is too wrapped up in the way Brittany looks like herself again, and Brittany is too content in moving to the music.

As everyone starts to follow Puck to the auditorium, Brittany looks at Santana like she’s the best thing in the world. Santana would be lying if she said she didn’t miss this, the look and the way she feels like she’s walking on air when Brittany smiles.

(She doesn’t, for a second, think to consider if Dani has ever made her feel this way.)

* * *

After watching Quinn leave Puck sitting there, guitar still in his lap, Santana goes after her. She finds Quinn leaning against her old locker, arms crossed and her head bowed down. 

“Who knew sending Puckerman to the military would make him so soft?” Santana teases as she approaches.

Quinn looks up, tears in her eyes. She doesn’t say anything, just watches as her friend approaches. Santana remembers a time she found Quinn like this once, right before she found out that Quinn was pregnant and swore she wouldn’t tell Sue.

Santana would’ve done anything for Quinn back then, before she got greedy with power on the Cheerios. She thinks she’d still do anything for Quinn now, even if she won’t admit it out loud.

She leans against the lockers next to Quinn and says quietly, “He cares about you, you have to know that.”

Quinn shakes her head, looking at the lockers across from them. It’s almost like she’s talking to herself and not Santana when she comments, “He’s too caught up in the past.”

Santana looks at her for a moment, sees the way Quinn’s jaw twitches, a telltale sign she’s struggling to hold her emotions back. She offers a sympathetic smile.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of what you’ve been through,” Santana tells her. When Quinn finally looks at her, she adds, “Or where you’ve come from. I mean, seriously, Q, you should be proud of everything you’ve been through. Look at you, you were head Cheerio, had a baby, bounced back, had a little rebel phase, and now you’re at Yale?”

Quinn twists her lips, but Santana knows she’s doing her best to hide the slightest of smiles. She keeps going, letting a soft chuckle fall from her lips.

“You’re an absolute badass who takes no shit, Quinn,” she continues, giving her friend a sideways glance and a smile. “And if you don’t think someone will be proud of you and everything you’ve done in your life to lead you to where you are, then screw it. They don’t deserve you.”

A soft laugh comes from Quinn and Santana smiles a little wider. Quinn only shakes her head, looking at Santana with a slightly amused look.

“When did you get all mature?” Quinn asks, smiling.

Santana scoffs, but she’s pulling Quinn into a hug. “Please, I’m always calling you out on your shit.”

Quinn laughs, louder and more honest this time, giving Santana a sideways hug. Her head rests on Santana’s shoulder and honestly, Santana can’t remember a time they were ever this relaxed when it came to conversations like this.

Quinn must realize it too because she asks, “Is it concerning that I’m surprised this didn’t end up with us slapping each other?”

Santana laughs, pulling away from the hug but keeping an arm around Quinn’s shoulders as she pushes both of them off the lockers.

“Call it a miracle,” she jokes as Quinn smiles at her. “But seriously, I’ll deny any of this happened if you tell.”

Quinn rolls her eyes, leaning into Santana’s side. “I wouldn’t dare tell everyone how caring you really are.”

Santana gives her a small smile. “You can make your own decisions, Q. Just know we care about you, is all. I want you to be happy, too.”

Quinn responds with a playful hip check and the two of them slowly start walking down the hall back to the auditorium.

“Speaking of happy,” Quinn starts. “Why didn’t you bring Dani with you?”

The name catches Santana off guard. A small amount of guilt puddles in her stomach at the fact she realizes, up until now, she hasn’t really thought about her girlfriend at all since she got here.

She recovers quickly, though, explaining, “She couldn’t get off from work, especially since, you know, all three of us called in to come home.”

It’s not a complete lie, not really. Dani _did_ have to pick up some extra shifts to make up for the fact she, Rachel and Kurt impulsively bought tickets back home as soon as Blaine mentioned the glee club’s last hurrah.

But the fact is the idea of having Brittany and Dani in the same vicinity just makes Santana nervous. It’s not that she thinks either of them would do anything crazy, it’s just - well, Santana doesn’t quite know. She just doesn’t think it’d be a good idea.

Quinn nods slowly. “And how are things with Brittany?”

Santana slows their walk to a stop to give Quinn a weird look. “They’re fine. I’m allowed to have a girlfriend and still be Britt’s best friend.”

“I know that,” Quinn nods, pulling away from Santana so they’re standing in front of each other. 

“It’s just…?” Santana prompts with a quirk of an eyebrow.

Quinn hesitates for a moment, but she sighs and looks at Santana like she knows better. It kind of drives Santana insane.

“You still look at her like you used to,” she says. “And you’ve spent these past few days doing everything you can to make her happy again. I think that being back here…”

“Being back here does what, Quinn?” Santana snaps, narrowing her eyes at her. “You think I’m still in love with Brittany?”

Quinn’s shoulders drop, and Santana knows she’s getting a little too defensive too quickly, but she has to. A part of her feels like no one can ever see Santana without Brittany, that it was her biggest trait before everything went south.

“New flash Q, helping your best friends figure out their shit is what you’re _supposed_ to do as a best friend,” Santana explains hotly. “Why do you think I’ve been on your ass about rich boy? I’m trying to help both you and Britt to get your heads out of your asses, thank you very much.”

“I don’t need your help in my love life,” Quinn replies curtly. “But you’re an idiot if you think that Brittany hasn’t been looking at you the exact same way, too.”

Santana glares at her, but her chest tightens because _has_ Brittany been looking at her differently? She’s pretty sure a part of her will always love Brittany in some capacity, but it feels like Brittany’s long past what they used to be. But still, Santana can’t help but wonder…

No. She’s not doing this. Quinn is not putting this thought in her head. She’s not going to let some side comment that Quinn makes ruin everything good she has going for her. Dani is waiting for her to come home to New York, to continue _their_ life together.

Santana opens her mouth to give Quinn a piece of her mind, but Quinn beats her to it.

“Look, you don’t have to believe me,” Quinn sighs. “And maybe I am just seeing what I used to see in high school because we’re back here and it’s all kinds of sad and it makes me miss those days a little more than usual.”

She shrugs. “But you can’t ever deny it, Santana. What you and Britt had? You don’t come across something like that very often.”

With that, Quinn is spinning on her heels and walking back into the auditorium.

Santana stands there, dumbfounded, a mix of angry and frustrated and curious. When she finally walks back in, Brittany is immediately bouncing up to her and filling her in on the latest plans she and Mike and Tina and some of the others have made for dinner.

(When Dani texts her that night during dinner, Santana is too wrapped up in Brittany’s laugh and her smile and the way she looks like herself again to text back.)

* * *

Santana hates when Quinn is right.

She hates it, but when Brittany kisses her and tells her she wants to be with her, Santana can’t even think about how right Quinn is. All she can think about is how much she’s missed the way Brittany’s lips fit against hers and how she has spent months and months getting over her only to crumble back where it all started.

_I’ve seen the world and I’m sure, now more than ever, I belong with you._

Brittany doesn’t push her, she never has. She knows Santana needs to make a choice on her own, and like always, she has more than enough patience to wait on Santana’s next move.

Santana has always loved her for it because she is so sure she hasn’t done a single thing to deserve all the patience Brittany has for her.

But the feeling in her gut makes her uneasy. She has tried so hard to move on, to stop comparing every single girl she comes across to Brittany. Dani is the first girl that has been able to do that, but being here for only a few days, it’s clear to her that nothing Dani has done will ever compare to the way Brittany makes her feel with one glance or a slight smile.

She kind of needs someone to rant to and for obvious reasons, it can’t be Brittany. But she’s still kind of pissed at Quinn and she’s currently only speaking to Rachel to spew insults her way, so her options are kind of limited. Kurt is an immediate no - they’ve never been the type to discuss relationship stuff with each other.

So Santana locks herself in her childhood bedroom and overthinks just about everything.

Quinn’s words keep playing in her head, their argument in the hallway on a loop. It’s not until she looks at her phone and realizes she still hasn’t replied to Dani’s text from the other night that Santana suddenly feels like it’s obvious.

It’s always been Brittany.

Breaking up with her girlfriend over the phone isn’t Santana’s best moment, but she knows she can’t waste any more of her or Dani’s time.

(It takes everything in her to _not_ call Brittany and ask her to come over. She knows simply being in the same space as the blonde will help her breathe easier, but she knows she needs to wait.

Brittany has spent so much time waiting on her. Santana can wait just a little longer for the both of them, too.)

* * *

Somehow, Brittany S. Pierce has always known Santana better than she knows herself.

She knows when Santana’s happy, when she’s anxious, when her whole heart isn’t in it - Brittany just _gets_ her. So she isn’t surprised at all when Brittany is able to untangle the Broadway-sized mess Santana has made for herself with a few wise words and a knowing smile.

“I really missed you,” Santana admits quietly, after she’s made up with Rachel and returned to Brittany’s bright eyes and proud smile.

Brittany’s beaming as she replies, “I missed you too, more than anything.”

Kissing Brittany feels like coming home, and it’s only when Brittany reminds her they need to be in the choir room soon that Santana finally pulls away. With one last kiss on her forehead, soft and tender and full of _promise,_ Brittany is sliding her hand into Santana’s and dragging her all the way to the choir room for one last meeting.

Quinn’s by the piano when they walk in, her eyes immediately catching their hands intertwined and probably the stupid smile Santana can’t keep off her face. Santana is prepared to give her a glare and snap at her about minding her own business, but her eyes are curious when she realizes Puck is next to Quinn, unable to take his eyes off of her.

Interesting.

She instead goes for a quirked eyebrow at Quinn, who is immediately mirroring the look right back at Santana. Neither of them say a word though, and for one last time Santana is falling into her seat in the back row, like she’s done a thousand times before.

“You guys are funny,” Brittany comments.

Santana blinks, turning her attention to her. “What?”

“You and Quinn are so alike,” Brittany explains. “That’s why you fight so much, but at the end of the day you care about each other no matter what.”

Santana wants to roll her eyes and tell Brittany she’s ridiculous, but she _is_ kind of right. Actually, she’s _very_ right. So Santana gives Brittany a small smile, one that only Brittany’s ever been able to pull out of her, instead.

“You are such a genius,” she hums.

Brittany grin. “Well, duh.”

It’s almost fitting to let Puck and Quinn round off the performances in this room. She thinks about their first year of glee club, how she thought dating Puck was the right move, and when that wasn’t it then that simply sleeping with him was. She thinks about Quinn and the way she’s only ever been honest with Puck when it came down to it. She thinks about how, without glee, she has a feeling Puck and Quinn never would’ve worked their shit out. She thinks about Mr. Schuester and the way he cared a little too much, but has always been there, for Quinn’s baby and Santana being forced out of the closet and just about everything else in between.

Lastly, she thinks of her and Quinn. From best friends to enemies to repeating it all over again and again. She thinks about throwing each other under the bus when the opportunity arose, of making everything a competition. She thinks about Quinn crying in her arms when she found out she was pregnant, of Quinn’s stupid smirk when she told Santana she knew she’d been in love with Brittany long before Santana was smart enough to figure it out. She thinks about flanking Quinn’s side in Cheerios skirts and always coming up with a nasty comment to back Quinn up. And more recently, she thinks of Quinn never failing to show up by her side, even if Santana doesn’t completely deserve it.

Love or hate her at any given moment, Santana knows Quinn’s stuck with her for life. Seeing the way Quinn moves so easily and comfortably with Puck - well, Santana can’t help but love every bit of this for her friend. Puck was never the obvious choice, but it’s so clear now he’s the _right_ one after time and growth and maturity.

So once everyone is starting to file out of the choir room for the last time, Santana is quick to fall by Quinn’s side.

“I was being serious,” Santana tells her. “About liking you and Puck together.”

Quinn just looks at her, her stupid knowing smile on her face. “I like you and Brittany together.”

Santana twists her lips to hide a smile, but she fails miserably and Quinn laughs because she knows it. She knows this is the part where she’s supposed to apologize for snapping yesterday, but it’s never really been the way they operate.

“I like us together too,” she hums, watching as Puck and Brittany walk out of the room together, laughing at something Santana and Quinn would roll their eyes at.

Puck looks back at Quinn, giving her a dopey smile that Santana’s never really seen on his face before, but she thinks it suits him. Quinn smiles back, all bright eyes and happiness and Santana’s heart warms at the sight.

She playfully hip checks Quinn. “Happiness looks good on you.”

Quinn turns to her, grinning as she says, “You, too.”

Santana laughs softly, throwing an arm around Quinn as they both take one last look around the room.

There are so many memories here. There is pain and love and laughter. There are wins and losses, highs and lows. Santana thinks back to that very first day, the one where Quinn convinced them to try out for the club just to keep an eye on Finn. She eyes the space in front of the piano and can just see it in the back of her mind, a young Unholy Trinity in front of an unsuspecting Will Schuester. She grins and shakes her head at the image.

“Who would’ve thought joining the stupid glee club would mean so much?” Quinn asks.

Santana gives the chairs one last look before they’re walking out and says, “I’m glad you dragged me into this big mess, Q.”

Yeah, Quinn Fabray is still kind of her best friend in the world.


End file.
